


Metempsychosis

by plastromeme



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, American Sign Language, Bisexual Corvo Attano, F/M, HE IS, High Chaos Emily Kaldwin, Low Chaos Corvo Attano, Mark of the Outsider (Dishonored), Minor cursing, Mute Corvo Attano, NOT a slowburn, No idea where this is going, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Reincarnation, at least for now, but just know, corvo attano still loves his highly chaotic daughter, history fanatic, is it gonna be mentioned?, just a smidge, mute characters unite?, no beta readers we dye like illiterates, please read solely for eggs, probably not, she LOVES old things ok, statue corvo attano, the outsider is obviously a lil gay, will probably add more characters later, wink @ corvo amirite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 03:54:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15210365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plastromeme/pseuds/plastromeme
Summary: noun:the supposed transmigration at death of the soul of a human being or animal into a new body of the same or a different species-One hundred years after the vengeful rule of Empress Emily Kaldwin, the Outsider finally Marks another.





	Metempsychosis

**Author's Note:**

> you thought this was gonna be a slowburn? think again. i don't have ANY patience 
> 
> haven't even started the second chapter yet but i wanted to see if anyone would even read something like this

Everyone and their dog knows of the black hearted empress named Emily Kaldwin. Everyone knows how another named Delilah took the throne from her, and Emily spilled all the blood she could to get it back. 

More importantly, everyone knows that was the year the royal protector went missing. 

She (not Empress Emily, mind you) knows this, because she, as well, gets looped into everyone. Of course, it is history now, and even though history is her strong suit, she can’t help but roll her eyes when her college students gasp when she spills the gruesome details. 

You’d think they weren’t taught this in highschool. Which, she thinks as she looks back on her own highschool life forever ago, they probably weren’t. She had spent most of her time as a child and teenager in the local library or on her phone, searching for everything she could about the history of the Kaldwin family. It was a strange fascination to see what hell the family had been through, and how the different members took to inconveniences. 

Corvo Attano was hardly a Kaldwin, though he might have been if Emily’s mother hadn’t died so soon and suddenly. When the child was taken from Corvo, he escaped prison and went after her. The books, the websites, don’t tell her of what he had to do. But she can guess from the lack of deaths, the rise in missing people, and the dwindle of the rat plague that he did what he could. After that, the mentions of him become next to none. 

Emily Kaldwin, herself, was a whole different story. Faced with a coup, she escaped the the castle with blood staining the oceans red. The reports don’t tell her of where Emily went for the next few months, but with the slaughters happening all over, she can easily guess where the empress went. She was known for her cruel rule, and her ability to strike fear in even those who supported her. Poems and local folklore told rumors of how she mercilessly killed her father and buried his body somewhere where no one would find it. 

But that doesn’t make sense, she knows. Because if Corvo Attano had died that year, and Emily had killed and hid him, then why was the museum part of the palace still terribly over guarded, especially in the throne room? What was so valuable there that still, a hundred years after Emily’s reign, that needed protecting? 

She knows, of course, but doesn’t understand. The statue in the throne room has rope surrounding it, with warning signs to not get too close or touch it. She has been there many times to see it, to see the cracks of a statue on its last legs. The statue is not a pretty one, that’s for sure; it is yelling, reaching, a hand casted to its side as if to protect something. Its mouth is in anger, but its eyes--oh, its eyes are in a state of panic. Its eyebrows are risen, as if trying to get away from something. 

She can’t help but think that this statue is a poor commoner during the black hearted, red handed, magic wielding Empress Emily’s reign that got caught in the during one of her bad days. There are reports all about Emily’s bad days, and the museum is littered with several statues. But none of them are behind rope, none of them have guards that will tell you to back up if you stand too close or stare at it for too long. 

On the verge of sleep, after one day of many in visiting the museum and wasting more coin to get in, she thinks she knows why that one statue is guarded. She thinks she knows why that, no matter how hard she searches, that she cannot find a single artist piece of the royal protector. Empress Emily did not want her, or any other curious historian, to recognize that the statue that is so heavily guarded could be, in fact, Corvo Attano. 

She falls asleep, and wakes up falling. She falls long enough so that she can look around; it’s dark. Despite that, she can see giant movements in the clouded areas, like a whale is floating through the sky. Or several, if she sees right, as well as the old buoys they used to use before lighthouses became more efficient. Wait--she can see one of those, too, lighting up a whale briefly before disappearing into the dark. She doesn’t see it again. 

Land below her approaches, shaped like the shadows decided to be touchable. She wants to close her eyes, but she is afraid, and when she is afraid she can’t help but watch. Her body moves on her own, and she is no longer in danger of belly flopping painfully. Instead, she will break both legs, and that thought alone might be enough to kill her. 

She lands, but not painfully, and that throws her in for loop. It was as if she was submerged in water, sinking with a weight attached to her, but landing on the ocean floor is soft. She takes a cautious step forward, and then another, and soon she’s exploring this crazy new place she’s in. She can’t tell if she’s dreaming, but everything from the real world seems fuzzy. She vaguely remembers reading about something like this once, but she can’t recall what happened or who it happened to. She is blocked to her thoughts of the real world, and she wonders, if only for a moment, that she has been dreaming all her life, and this is the only thing that’s real. 

“Welcome, welcome,” comes a voice from her left, and she startles onto the ground. 

She knows who he is, as everyone does, and she is very well included in everyone. But anyone ever affiliated with him is dead, and reportings of weird dreams including whales and a teenaged boy haven’t happened in well over 75 years. 

He is smug looking, but his eyes tell a lonely story that she can’t quite make out. “So you’ve figured out Empress Emily’s little secret,” he disappears from the side, and appears a few feet in front of her, pacing. “The question is; what will you do now?” 

“ _What?_ ” she manages to make out, though every fiber of her body is shaking. It makes it harder to talk, harder to be listened to, and she wonders if the god even knows that she just spoke. 

“You could go back to your life,” he continues. “You could continue to teach college lessons that one person a year in all the classes is interested in. You could fail and pass anyone that came through your door; you could pretend to be your own god for a while.” 

He looks at her, and it’s enough prompting for her to shake her head. Teaching is a hobby; learning about the past is her true passion. 

“Then the other option is to accept my Mark,” he says, and she strains to remember the outside world. “Accept the powers that come with it, and free Corvo Attano from his hundred year prison.” There’s something in the Outsider’s voice--it’s still calm, but the lonely edge is cut off, and there’s a fond spark to his tone. 

Without truly meaning to, she is already nodding. Her left hand immediately starts to burn, and when she looks down she can see a strange symbol that she can only label as the Outsider’s Mark. It’s black and tattoo like enough that no one in her classes or on the street could recognize is as basically black magic. Yet, as she curls her fingers inwardly, the pattern glows a deep blue, and she once again feels like an excited teenager. 

She looks up to thank the god, but she wakes up, remembering her dream for the first time in years. She feels hyperaware, and as she looks down she can see the smooth tattoo on the back on her hand. A curl and twist of her fingers, and she’s _melting_ and gasps, but soon she’s reforming and on the other side of the room. 

Her first thought is _holy shit it wasn’t a dream_. Then; _did I really just accept a gift from a god that hasn’t been spotted in almost a century._ And back to _holy shit I have powers._

It’s the weekend, and she doesn’t work weekends, so it’s her time off. She spends the rest of Saturday trying out everything. There’s the melting teleport thing she has, and increased stamina, as well terribly quick regeneration. Finally, there was this one… power that allows her to see through walls, but the only thing she can see is eggs. She can see her eggs, her neighbor’s eggs, as well as a few eggs on the roof from some birds. She doesn’t know why that’s a power she has, but it is, so she takes what she has. 

That night, or really early Sunday morning rather, she makes her move to the museum. Getting inside is easy, but getting close to the statue is what starts to stump her. She’s never been a particularly sneaky person, and one might even call her clumsy. Even going in through a side window near the statue, near Corvo Attano, she trips on her way in. In hindsight, it probably hardly makes a noise, but she can’t help but wince and wait for the guards to pour in. 

When minutes pass and she’s still alone, she follows the familiar path to the one and only Corvo Attano. There isn’t any guards, which is strange, but she gets closer. There’s not a guard in sight, and the ropes are gone, so she has to briefly wonder if she got the wrong statue. She knows that angered and frightened expression anywhere, as well as the familiar cracks she has spent hours looking at before, and realizes she must have had a stroke of luck. 

She’s standing in front of him now, and now she can see the amount of details on his face. There are tiny scars, tiny hairs sticking up everywhere, and she wonders if he even knows that he’s been a statue for well over a hundred years. 

Her marked hand trails over a particularly large scar, at least compared to the others, and the stone immediately starts to crumble away. Corvo is taking deep, loud breaths, and looking at her as if he’s seen a ghost. 

She doesn’t know how long they have before the guards come back, so she quickly tells him to follow her, and can only hope he understands. She looks down both hallways, before making her way to the window she had used to get in. 

Without meaning to, she activates Egg Vision, and sees someone through the wall with at least ten eggs in their stomach, as well as three in their pocket and one in their hand. She gets as low as she can to the ground, and peaks cautiously. There is a guard there, looking as confused as ever about an open window, and slowly sticking a whole egg in his mouth. 

She shudders, but grabs onto Corvo as the guard gets ready to close the window, and melts outside. Corvo dry heaves, but she feels like they won’t be safe until she gets home, so she grabs his hand and makes the familiar path home.

A little later, they’re both back in the safety of her old fashioned room. Corvo glances outside the window, and she can see his expression light up with confusion. Quickly, it vanishes, and he turns his stone cold stare to her. It’s a calculating look, and he sighs, straightens, and looks as proper as she has ever seen. 

“ _Who are you?_ ” he asks, without opening his mouth. 

She signs the shortened version of her name, but he just stares until she signs it properly. “ _J E S S A M I N E,_ ” she tells him. “ _My name is Jessamine._ ”


End file.
